


Down From the Tower

by BurntKloverfield



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, BB-8 is a horse, Canon-Typical Violence, Daggers, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Inspired by Tangled (2010), MAGIC HAIR, Magic, Past Abuse, Rapunzel Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 07:16:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23807854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurntKloverfield/pseuds/BurntKloverfield
Summary: Reylo Rapunzel AUKylo Ren has spent his entire life in the tower, until the scrappy scavenger followed his song.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 15
Kudos: 27





	Down From the Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey's a scavenger, no better than a common thief. Kylo Ren has been kept in a tower his entire life, the only contact to the outside world being his master, Palpatine. Will Rey be able to save Kylo from his tower?

Rey of Jakku was a young woman who lived off the land. She had been on her own her entire life. She did the best she could as a scavenger, but a young woman with no family, no home, and no money had very little leverage in the way of the world. Jakku, though, was neither a friendly nor a prosperous place. Jakku was a desert bordering other poor and distressed countries. The Empire that ruled every country was cold and cruel and all-encompassing, leaving its merciless fingerprints on the necks of its hopeless citizens.

It hadn’t always been like this. Years and years before, there were kind kings and queens looking over their lands and peoples as well as any caring father or mother could care for their own children. Seeds of distrust, war, hatred, and famine were soon sown among all the lands, and the Emperor snatched up every land for his own. Some said he was a miraculous politician who knew how to manipulate any and every situation. People whispered that he had killed the kings and queens himself, snatching up their children for his own. Others said that he had simply taken advantage of the failing kingdoms. They would say that the insidious Emperor Palpatine was a sorcerer. And there were even rumors that he used the children he had stolen from the royal families to fuel his magic powers.

Rey had heard the stories. That’s all they were to her, though: myths, stories, ballads sung around a campfire. They held no value to her and her daily struggle. She was a hungry girl trying to survive another day, and fairy tales did not keep her fed.

She was a scavenger, not a hunter, yet here she was, running after a careening horse through the chaotic desert outpost. Niima, Jakku did not have a particularly large trading market, nor did such a fine beast ever wander in on its own like this proud dappled creature had. The horse, in all its white and ginger splendor, had dashed in from nowhere, riderless, and had proceeded to stick its nose into every stall, knock over every pot it passed, and annoy every person trying to conduct their own business. When Rey had made her way to the post that morning, the horse was already running from every other trader trying to catch it. She joined in, knowing that if she could snag it, she’d be able to live off the reward for the better part of a year or more.

The magnificent chase was more excitement than the whole trading-post had had in months. Rey knew, however, that it would soon turn ugly as the other traders always played dirty, and if someone didn’t catch the galloping horse, there would be injuries and brawls and sabotage. Rey took her chance to scramble up the side of a building over scaffolding and a window ledge, rolling herself onto the roof and onto her feet. She surveyed the chase, set herself on the ledge of the building, and propelled herself out over the corner straight out onto the back of the horse. It had been too much of an expectation to land squarely on the saddle, Rey knew, and she hadn’t. She had just judged a little too late, barely snagging the saddle and clutching it until she could put a foot in the stirrup. Rey got a hold of the reins and jerked them back, causing the horse to buck. She hit her chin on the horse’s neck and held on to the horse with everything she could, tears already pricking her eyes from her certainly bruised chin.

She could feel the horse tiring, and she put her hand on the horse’s neck, trying to pet it. It glared back at her, breathing hard.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she insisted.

The horse whinnied and slowed its movements to a trudge.

Rey straightened up, wavering slightly, and looked around. Niima Outpost was at the edge of the horizon.

“Hey! Where are you going?” she shouted, pulling back on the reigns.

The horse whinnied again and shook its head, trying to get her to release the pressure on the reins.

“You’ll die if you keep going this way! There’s no water for miles! We should go back!” She tried to pull the reins to make the horse turn, but the horse stopped and sat itself down. Rey lost her balance and tumbled from its back into the sand. She huffed and shoved the horse. “Well, boy, you are the most stubborn animal I have ever encountered!”

She noticed that the horse had several bags attached to its saddle, and she dug into them, eyeing the horizon in case the other traders followed the chaotic horse out into the empty desert. The first bag contained more food than she had ever had in her possession at one time, dried fruits and jerky and hard breads. She looked up at the horse in awe and immediately shoved a bit of meat in her mouth. The horse disregarded her, catching its own breath.

The next saddlebag contained various personal effects, clothing, a dagger, a compass, a hairbrush, a horse’s brush, and tucked beneath everything else, a map. She pulled the paper out, unrolling it as carefully as she could. She had never really managed paper before. It deteriorated too quickly in the desert. This, though, was important.

Notes covered the map. She recognized the names of a few countries, and she found Jakku right where it was supposed to be, but she was drawn to the gently sketched line traveling straight through Jakku and a country named Takadona and to the edge of the map where the ocean began. There was a note there with directions of the heading to take a voyage to a place called Ach-To.

She quirked her head. “Is that where your rider was headed, huh, boy? Ach-To? What is there?”

She put the map back in the saddlebag and hopped over the horse to check the other bags. One was a large water container, and she took a mouthful as she counted out how long that water would last in the desert: It was more than enough for a rider and the horse for nearly a week. She tightly screwed the lid back into place, moving onto the last bag, filled completely with letters, paper, and writing utensils. She pulled one from the bag and scanned the fine handwriting. It was addressed to a man named Poe, and the author asked about the welfare of a Bebe, making a comment about how Poe should feed the sweet creature more sugar cubes.

Rey looked up at the horse. “Is that what you’re called? Bebe?” The horse looked at her and snuffled. She smiled in return and nodded.

The letter contained little else of importance to her until the signature. At first, she couldn’t read the looping calligraphy, but she slowly made out the name, Leia Organa.

“The Queen of Alderaan?” Rey whispered, remembering the name from old old stories travelers had shared. She reread the letter, searching for what this meant. It spoke of missing her son and her brother and the hope that this Poe could find a way to them. There was a date scrawled at the top, showing that this letter had only been written a fortnight previous. Rey pulled another letter from the bag, wondering what she had stumbled upon. This one was years older, but the contents chilled her soul. It was the outrage of a mother losing her child, insisting that he was not dead, that he was out there somewhere in the world, and it was surely the work of Emperor Palpatine.

Rey looked to the horse. “They’re not just stories, are they? They’re true?”

She put the letter back into the bag, then noticed a simple metal pan resting between the saddlebag containing the water and the saddle. She unclipped it from the saddle and filled it with water for Bebe the horse, setting it in the sand in front of him.

“Not that all this ever really affected me before, or Jakku, or anyone here,” she mused. “I could follow this map to Ach-to, and I might get dragged into something much larger than myself, but I also might end up with death as my only reward.”

Bebe busied himself with drinking from the pan, ignoring Rey and her musings.

“I wonder if Ach-to is where all the royalty is being held. Didn’t the stories say something about the kings and queens being hidden away? Or was that their children? Or just the princesses?”

Bebe finished his drink, and Rey put the pan away, only after stealing the last swig of water the horse could not reach.

“You’ve convinced me, Bebe,” Rey nodded, standing. “We’re going to follow that map, you’re going to take me to the edge of the land, I’m going to get out of this dead end place, and we’re going to be heroes of the realm. How does that sound?”

The horse whinnied at her before climbing to his feet and waiting patiently for her to mount the saddle.

She nodded and tried to mount from the ground, shakily slinging her foot into the stirrup and propelling herself up and onto the horse, just to find herself backwards in the saddle. It gave her a good view of Niima Outpost as Bebe started walking. Rey could pick out the dark shapes of traders heading their direction, following the tracks in the sand. She wasn’t worried. They wouldn’t trail them for long. Nobody at Niima Outpost had any animal to follow them for long enough to catch up with them.

* * *

Kylo Ren huffed, spinning his blade before attacking the thoroughly battered training dummy, dancing around the others he had set up, soon enough, immobilizing every one of them in his dark tresses. He looked back through the room and the large number of training dummies he had tied up in his exceptionally long hair. He tossed his wooden sword to its place in the corner before carefully untangling himself from the intricate web, circling back around a training dummy and crawling under his hair held taut between two of them, and back and around and circling until he came to the end of his hair. He ran his fingers through a section, disappointed to find that there were tangles already there.

He shook his head, gathered up a long length, and threw it around a few dummies so he could pull them out of the way.

“Kylo Ren! Kylo Ren!” a hoarse voice called from outside. “Let down your hair!”

He perked up, gathering his hair back, stalking to the window, and looping his hair over the hook placed just for that purpose. He was proud of the length that he had in his hair. It was long enough that he could throw down the whole length and then have just the same amount so it would create a loop for his guardian to take a seat and then be lifted up the tower by Kylo’s strength. He waited for the telltale tug of him sitting his weakening frame in his hair, and then Kylo set his foot against the window frame, and expertly pulled his hair up, along with his master.

The old man looked more and more frail each time he came to visit, but that was the very point of his visits.

“Hello, Master,” Kylo greeted, reaching out to take his hand and pull him inside. He frowned at the aging hand in his, this time missing a few fingers.

“Yes, hello, boy, hello,” he returned, hobbling to his feet into the room. He glowered at the remaining dummies that hadn’t been put away after Kylo’s training. “What is this mess?”

“Training, Master,” Kylo explained, already pulling them to the side of the room with the others. “In case the tower is ever stormed?” He had been sure to add why he was training. His master had not supplied the training dummies: Kylo had built them himself from old furniture and fabric and whatever surplus his master left in the tower.

He cackled. “What put that in your mind?” He hobbled further into the room, and Kylo dutifully retrieved the cushioned chair reserved for his master.

Kylo held his tongue as he helped his master into the chair and obediently knelt on the stone floor before him. He wanted to remind him it was he who had told him he wanted Kylo protected in case there was ever an attack on the tower. Instead, he said, “It is the nature of the tower? To protect? From soldiers who would wish to invade? Isn’t that what you always taught me, Master Palpatine?”

Palpatine chuckled, setting a hand on Kylo’s head and offering his other hand. He obediently set the brush in Palpatine’s palm. “Such a studious thing, aren’t you? So eager to please?” He ran the brush through Kylo Ren’s hair. “You wouldn’t be able to stand the cruel outside world. They wouldn’t understand you. They’d want you for your powers.” He patted the top of Kylo’s head. “Go on, my dear boy.”

Kylo began to sing the song he had been taught from the moment he could repeat sounds.

“Flower, gleam and glow  
Let your power shine  
Make the clock reverse  
Bring back what once was mine

Heal what has been hurt  
Change the Fates’ design  
Save what has been lost  
Bring back what once was mine  
What once was mine.”

The song had been drilled into his mind over and over and over, and he would sometimes find himself saying the words to himself without realizing it. They were a comfort. They were consistent. They were magic. Kylo Ren’s hair held a powerful renewing magic, and the key to using it was to sing it into reality. When he would sing the song, his dark hair would shimmer and heal the world around him. He could heal his own wounds, normally scrapes or bruises, by wrapping his mystical hair around the mark and singing, bringing out the magic and bringing life into the world. He had discovered that his gift had even been useful to grow plants and heal animals. He enjoyed healing things, saving things, bringing beauty into the little world that was his tower. Vines that Kylo had cultivated nearly covered the walls and the exterior stones of his tower. He even had animals that came to visit or knew he would heal a cut or a broken bone.

Palpatine, though, had no patience to listen to all the ways Kylo Ren used his powers, and so when he came to the tower, bringing food and lessons, Kylo would only do his duty of singing life back into the man and let his master teach him what he would of the outside world.

“Again, dear boy. Sing it again.” Palpatine continued to brush through Kylo’s hair, basking in its glow, examining his hands as his skin was renewed, and his missing fingers regrew themselves.

Kylo felt the magic pull at his energy, and he set his forehead against Palpatine’s knees, hidden beneath the layers of dark fabric. Palpatine continued brushing through his hair, insisting that Kylo sing a third round, brushing down through the tresses, scowling at a tangle he found that had come from Kylo’s strenuous training.

Kylo wasn’t shy about using his hair. It was a tool, a gift, a part of his everyday life, but Palpatine took more and more from him each time he visited the tower.

“Very good,” Palpatine cooed, patting Kylo’s head in his lap. “It’s time for dinner.”

“Yes, Master,” he replied, pushing himself up to his feet and made his way to the kitchen alcove. He felt drained, but he masked the weariness, knowing that showing weakness would only lead to scolding and punishment.

His mind wandered as he prepared their meal, eyes resting on the sharp knives and wishing they would do anything. When he was a young child, he had tried cutting his hair, tried ripping it from his head, tried tearing it away. He remembered hating how heavy it was, how it wouldn’t lay right, how it would get tangled, how he felt so tired and distraught after Palpatine’s visits. No blade could ever cut his hair. He never lost a single strand. Not a single hair on his head had ever been harmed. It couldn’t be.

* * *

Rey was impressed by the forest Bebe and she had come to. It was more green than she had ever seen, and there had even been a river. She allowed herself to cry at the sight, first drinking from it, and then jumping in, getting wet from head to toe for the first time in her life. The horse jumped in after her, splashing everything. At first, Rey laughed and splashed it back before remembering everything in the saddlebags.

“Hurry! Get out of the water!” Rey shouted, scrambling up onto the riverbank, and tugging on Bebe’s saddle to unlatch the straps. Bebe obeyed, shaking his mane, waiting for Rey to take all the weight off him. The saddle and bags fell to the muddy riverbank, and Rey drug it all to the dry grass, worriedly digging through the saddlebags. She relaxed when she saw that the saddlebags had been treated with wax to keep rain and moisture out.

Seeing that Rey was no longer worried, Bebe trotted back into the water.

Rey relaxed and took that moment to pull out the map. She spread it out onto the ground, comparing their journey with the path that the previous owner had traced out. “It looks like there was a tavern that your poor Poe had wanted to stop at. If he’s alive, then he might have made his way there.” The horse paid her no mind, enjoying the river. She trailed her finger over a slightly blue line that appeared to be the river they were playing in. “If we follow this down, it will pass by that tavern, and it will flow into the ocean.”

She put her feet back into the river and laid back to look up at the sky through the leaves. “I’ve never seen so much green before, Bebe.” For the first time in her life, she allowed herself to relax, and she drifted to sleep with her feet in the stream.

* * *

She awoke to twinkling stars above her and a man’s voice singing. She knew songs, but they were songs that traders sang when they were drunk or around a bonfire. The song she heard now was more of a nursery rhyme, closer to the fairy tales about long-lost kingdoms. It was soft and kind, but she couldn’t quite pick out all the words. She sat up, trying to listen. Bebe was asleep beside her, and he snuffled when she stood, insisting on staying asleep. The song pulled at her soul far too much for her to go back to sleep. She had to find out where it was coming from.

“Stay asleep. I’ll be right back,” she whispered, tugging her boots on.

She was about to head off towards the singing, but if the singer was indeed a man, it wasn’t safe for her to go unarmed. She normally fought with a staff, and she strapped it to its place on her back, but she retrieved the dagger from the saddlebag and attached the sheath to her belt. She set off finally to follow the song.

A light flickered in the corner of her eye, and she turned to find a glowing butterfly flying in the same direction. She blinked in surprise. She had once seen a cage filled with yellow butterflies, brought in by a trader on their way elsewhere, but none of them had ever glowed like this little blue one did.

She continued her walk, keeping an eye on the butterfly, even though she was much more interested in the song. She memorized the song as the words became clearer and louder. She was surely coming closer. She felt drawn, pulled, compelled to find where the song was coming from. It spoke to her soul, and though she knew she had never heard this song before, it felt as if it was being sung just for her.

She pushed aside a thick bush and gasped as she stepped into a clearing. A tower occupied the clearing, and a flurry of the glowing butterflies circled it. The little one she had been walking alongside joined the others in their dance. They fluttered like the stars did, lighting up the entire clearing in a soft glow. The butterflies that weren’t circling the tower rested on the vines that snaked around the stones. A single window opened at the top of the tower, and the yellow light of a candle silhouetted the singing figure sitting on the windowsill. The butterflies flew to the melody, and the man’s low voice repeated the song once again.

Rey listened to him sing, taking care to commit it fully to memory.

The man finished the song and let silence fill the clearing. The butterflies slowly dimmed and rested themselves on the vines of the tower and on the plants around her.

Rey couldn’t move, enchanted at the solo she had just been an unsuspecting audience to. The figure in the tower window didn’t move for a long time, but when he did, he disappeared into the tower and broke Rey from her awe.

She couldn’t just let him disappear into the night, not after that. She had never felt such hope so deep in her soul. She clapped her hands as loudly as she could. “You sing wonderfully!” she shouted up to the window, hoping he had heard her.

He rushed to the window, outlined by candlelight once again. “Who are you?” he shouted back.

“Rey! Rey of Jakku! I was passing by, and I heard your singing! You’re fantastic!” She found herself smiling, still giddy from the performance. “I’ve never heard anything like it!”

“Thank you,” he replied, much softer, confused at the praise.

“And who are you? Will you come down and introduce yourself?”

“Come down?” He stepped away in alarm. “I won’t fall for your tricks!” He disappeared back into the tower. In a moment, the candle inside went dark.

Rey’s soul shouted at her to go to him. It was the most beautiful song she had ever heard, and she couldn’t imagine herself never hearing it fall from his lips again. She circled the tower, looking for an entrance, but found none. In her desperation, she took hold of the vines, disturbing the butterflies, and climbed. The little bugs glowed brighter as she passed them. She finally reached the window and rolled inside, breathing hard.

She was suddenly shoved up against the wall; the man bracing her up with one arm and the other pressing a knife to her neck.

“Why did you come here?” he growled, eyes glinting in the dim light of the stars and the butterflies.

Rey wasn’t proud to say that she had been in that position before, but she knew exactly how to escape it. She moved easily from his grasp, pulling the dagger from her waist, and thrusting it out to brandish at the man, but they were much too close, and it caught flesh.

He shouted out and stumbled backwards, holding his face.

“I didn’t come here to attack you!” Rey insisted, stepping forward.

“Why else would you storm my tower?” he groaned and gasped, gathering up something dark from the surrounding room. Rey noticed the blackness moving as this man seemed to pull it over himself, like a blanket of shadow.

“I didn’t storm your tower! I just wanted to meet you and listen to the song again!”

“You want to hear the song again? Really?” He laughed beneath the dark, though his voice was distraught with pain. “You’re going to.”

And he sang. “Flower, gleam and glow, Let your power shine.” The darkness glowed around him, and Rey could now tell that it was hair. “Make the clock reverse, Bring back what once was mine.” He continued, pressing his hair to his face. The glow lit up the entire room brighter than the butterflies had before.

Rey felt awful as he choked out the final words. She had hurt him. She carefully put the dagger away, ashamed of herself.

“Heal what has been hurt  
Change the Fates’ design  
Save what has been lost  
Bring back what once was mine  
What once was mine.”

Rey shifted on her feet. “I’m sorry.”

He groaned and stood, shaking his hair away from him. “For storming my home? Why are you here? Who sent you?”

“I told the truth. I only heard you sing and wanted to hear more.”

“Are you satisfied?”

She shook her head. “Are you okay? Where did I get you?”

“My face.”

She squinted in the gloom. “But you’re not bleeding.”

“Of course not. The magic is good for that.” He turned away from her and lit a candle, and Rey could see him properly for the first time. A trail of his thick dark curling hair circled the room. He was massively tall and broad, even without the long length of hair. His face was pale and mole spotted, unsymmetrical, yet intense, and across his face from cheek to forehead was a scar.

“Where did I get you?” she asked again, searching his face.

“You wouldn’t be able to see it. I healed it,” he explained, searching her face in return. “But you got me here.” He raised his hand to his face, and it fell open in awe as his fingers brushed against the scar. He traced it up his face, horror filling his eyes. 

He spun from her and rushed away, pulling a curtain away from his sleeping area. Rey followed curiously. He stared at himself in the mirror, gently touching the scar that now crossed his face. He brought his hair over his face again and desperately repeated the song. He brushed it away from his face and examined himself, still just as scarred as before.

“What did you do to me?” he breathed.

“I’m sorry.”

“How?” He turned to her. “I could heal anything, even scars.” He gestured to his face, but his eyes bore into her, as if really seeing her for the first time.

She shook her head, hesitantly pulling the dagger from her side. “I used this.” She stared back at him. “You’re magic.”

His eyes finally moved from her face to the rest of her and to the dagger. “You say that as if you’re not.” He held out his hand. “May I see that?”

She laughed. “Of course, I’m not. I’d know if I was. I thought it was a myth. I’ve never seen anyone do magic before.”

She put the weapon in his open palm. As far as she could tell, it was an ordinary dagger: a silver-colored blade, a leather grip, and a cross guard inscribed with a sun.

He turned the dagger over and over in his hands, studying it intensely. Without warning, he took a handful of his hair, pulled it tight in front of him, and ran the blade through it, leaving a clean cut. He stared at the blunt ends he now held in his hand.

“What-Why would you do that?” Rey gasped.

His face broke out into a beaming grin. “No blade has ever been able to cut my hair.” He opened his hand and let the hair fall to the ground. “Where did you get this?” There was a strange joy in his voice, and Rey found that she wanted to make him sound like that again.

Rey was at a loss for words. She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “I found it. There was a horse without its rider, and I found it in its bags. I didn’t know it was anything special.”

After a moment of thought, he said, “Kylo Ren.”

“What?”

“My name. I never introduced myself. I’m Kylo Ren.”

“Hi.”

He looked down to the hair on the floor. His shoulders fell, and his already pale face paled further. “Master will not like this.” He pushed the dagger back into her hands as if he couldn’t stand to touch it any longer.

She held it awkwardly, searching his face. “Who’s your master?”

“Master Palpatine. He raised me.” The words came, but his eyes were so far away.

“Palpatine. Emperor Palpatine?” she whispered. She knew the name from gossip and stories. Half the time, she hadn’t even believed him to be a real person.

“Emperor? No, just my master,” he answered distractedly. He shook his head. The movement made the cut hair bounce, now at the level of his elbow. He took it and ran his fingers over the ends. “He will be so angry with me. I shouldn’t have done this.”

“Kylo, the emperor is named Palpatine. Don’t you know who rules the country?”

“I don’t. I’ve never left the tower. People would want me for my power.” He bit his lip and swallowed, staring at the end of his hair. He sang the song again, and all his hair glowed, except for the portion of hair held in his hand. “No,” he groaned, the anguish twisting his face. “It’s not growing back. It lost its magic.” He turned away, pacing across the stone floor. “He’s going to kill me.”

“He wouldn’t actually kill you, would he? What would your master do to you for this?”

Kylo shook his head, not looking back at her, breathing hard. His mind was already running wild from previous experiences. “His magic is different. Lightning and...” His voice caught in his throat. He took a hold of the shorter hair, and he pulled at it, still pacing around the room, over and around the trail of tresses he had already walked. “My hair makes me special, and I’ve ruined it. He won’t want me. No one will want me.” He threw his hands down to his sides, balling them into fists. “I’ve ruined everything!”

Rey sheathed the dagger and followed him. She set a hand on his shoulder. “He hurts you.” She could feel his trembling.

“Because I disobey. I deserve it.”

Rey clenched her jaw and tugged on his shoulder to turn him to her. “No, you do not.” She stared up at his terrified face. “I’ve heard stories of Palpatine, that he’s an evil sorcerer and a tyrant.” She reached up to touch his scar. “You’ve just proven to me that those stories are true, and I will not let him hurt you again.” She dropped her hand to take his. “Come with me?”

He searched her face. She could see his want to believe her and also his hesitation at leaving everything he’s ever known. “Where?”

“I found a map to an uncharted island. That’s where I was headed before I found you. We can go there, together.”

He swallowed again and slowly nodded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, [Impossiblefangirl0632](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impossiblefangirl0632), for betaing!

**Author's Note:**

> Looking for more? Check out my [profile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurntKloverfield/profile) or my [Reylo Ficlets.](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ReyloFiclets)


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